|
November 3, 2003 |
Our last day...
I'll never forget her big brown eyes staring at me under that messy curly hair, always on
her forehead. Her look was sharp. Demanding some honesty, she asked me: "Why do you have to leave?"
I didn't know what to answer, though I was expecting that question...I didn't want to lie
to her, so I said:
"Eventually, people go away"
She meditated for a minute, then replied with another question:
"grown up people leave?"
"yes, grown up people leave, ...eventually"
She rolled her eyes, bit her lips , stood up
and said:
"I'll never grow up! so I'll never have to
leave".
She seemed satisfied with her decision and we kept walking. I wanted to spend the last day
with her, so I took her to the park and bought her ice cream. I was sitting next to her,
while she ate her ice cream. I rubbed her hair, and kissed her. Little by little I felt as
if a dark shadow was rising from the floor, and started grasping my feet and moving
towards my heart. I felt cold and sad. I did not want to leave her...I wanted to stay with
her forever. I kept rubbing her hair... fighting the tears... my lips were trembling, my
face was frowning, I couldn't hold it any more, and I started crying.
Celeste looked up.
"Sister why are you crying?, what's
wrong?"
"I am going to miss you" I said.
"Are you leaving me?" she asked.
"I am not leaving you. I am just going to be
away from you. We will be physically away, but always together."
She didn't like my answer. Then she did that face
that all 5 year old kids do when they are upset. Her upper lip
was all curled under her lower lip. The pain was even sharper now, but I had to be strong.
I didn't want her to cry, or to feel sad. The look she gave me made me feel so guilty. A
tear started rolling down her cheek. I grabbed her arm and held her, her face leaning
against my chest. I felt all this
radiation coming out from my heart, I was giving it all to her. All the love I could
possibly feel, all the energy I had, I gave it all to her. We stayed there for quite some
time. At some point we were breathing together. I could feel her little heart running
fast. I felt weak, and yet so strong. She looked at me again, I smiled. She was not crying
anymore, neither was I. We just made a silent promise to each other. A pact that goes
beyond our primate nature, beyond words, beyond time and beyond the explainable.
Invisible, untouchable, and yet so real...
"We'll be together forever"
|
December 31, 2002 |
A Birth is a DeathTomorrow
a new year begins, a new cycle of the Earth around the Sun and a new sequence of dates in
the calendar. But what does this truly mean for us? We can simply celebrate with everyone
else and see the calendar shift and the numbers change, and get sad for some unexplainable
reason or happy for the same. But what if we truly wanted to something "new" to
happen?
The key to the "new" is in the
"old". We have to close what we have left hanging or opened before we can truly
begin. Otherwise, we will always hang in the middle, unable to let go and unable to accept
the new. This keeps us stuck where we are, still and devoid of movement. But to move
forward doesn't mean to "forget" about the past. It means to make sure that all
the circles have been closed firmly and elegantly.
With each circle that you manage to close in this
way, you will see the possibilities opening up before you, the world quickly and magically
refreshing itself before your eyes. Try it with something small. If you notice the process
working, try it with something bigger. Maybe there is truly something new waiting in the
repeating numbers of next year's calendar... |
|
November 26, 2002 |
The Three Wills
We can reduce our many desires and aches into three basic wills that are the foundation
for all others: the will to create, the will to preserve and the will to destroy. All
three are essential and indispensable. All three apply to all processes that we will
experience in our lifetime, in fact they are the building blocks for all of these life
processes. Any given process (whether it takes a few seconds, minutes, a couple of hours,
a week or several years) involves the three wills, which will usually manifest as three
stages.Each will has a
"trick" to it, a snag or obstacle and a way to overcome it. You may have early
on developed an ability to overcome one or another of these obstacles and so you may not
even notice that there is an obstacle in that particular area. But this may also lead you
to occlude or ignore the existence and need for the other two.
To work with this material, you may start by choosing
a small process, something that is "in your hands" as it were, maybe a small
project that you have been meaning to do but haven't... for one reason or another. I
emphasize that this should be very small. If it is too hard or large, you will get caught
up in the obstacles of the project itself and won't have the energy or wherewithal to
notice the three wills.
As you work, notice the "taste" of each
stage: the "fearless creativity" of the "whim" that starts the
project, the "enduring strength and effort" that allows it to continue and the
"release and detachment" that comes as you are ready to complete it. With each
stage, notice the forces that are against you. What fights you in each space is different.
How to counteract it is different as well. What will work in one stage will be
counterproductive in another. What would spell defeat in one, will be the key to success
in the other.
Here is the secret to the folk saying: "There is
a time and a place for everything..." |
|
November 9, 2002 |
Conversion
For those who have experienced it, it is unforgettable... so powerful that it can maintain
and feed a lifetime of sleep and dreams. And yet, within that intense blinding doorway may
lie the secret of all that we have been searching for, all that we have been striving so
long to obtain.Imagine a
seeker who, after days, months, years of walking all alone in the desert, finds a man
standing next to a doorway, magical doorway that you can only barely see across, a doorway
that shines with light. The seeker tells the stranger of his troubles, of his deep hunger,
his thirst, his sadness. The man says "The doorway will solve it all" and points
to the doorway beside him. The seeker looks, frets for a moment, looks at the man, back at
the desert and finally plunges right into the doorway.
The seeker experiences a vortex of energy, a sudden
clear view of all that has happened and all that will ever happen. Everything is shining
and everything is alive, holding so much more than he had ever been aware of. The world
revolves upon itself within the seeker and everything becomes clear and true and
beautiful... and he emerges on the other side.
It is a jungle. A hot, bug infested green jungle and
there are other people there. There are many huts and a big cooking fire in the center.
People walk around in loin cloths and seem free and happy. The seeker cannot believe his
eyes. He goes to them and they accept him. And he becomes one of them. And he lives
happily for many years.
Until one day there is a plague and the whole village
dies. Every single person dies, except for the seeker. The seeker cries for days and damns
his bad luck, his terrible life. And he begins to walk. The jungle has been decimated by
the plague and has turned into a desert. The seeker walks for days, months, years...
Until he finds a man standing next to a doorway. The
man says "The doorway will solve it all..."
|
|
October 19, 2002 |
Honesty
Probably the most difficult aspect of studying yourself is to be honest, truly honest. We
have built such a heavy arsenal of defense mechanisms against seeing ourselves that any
light attack will be refused easily and swiftly. Here is where we can try to do a
"super effort". Try this.Go
off by yourself to secluded area in the woods or mountains or beach. It doesn't need to be
completely secluded but it shouldn't be noisy or too public either. Bring along a notebook
and pen. Sit down and do some quiet breathing for a while, at least 15 minutes.
Now open the notebook to the first page and write
down some simple facts about yourself: your name, your age, where you live, what you look
like and so on.
Now close the notebook and do some more quiet
breathing. Once you feel quiet and "centered" enough, open the notebook to the
next page. Remember something someone else said that seemed offensive or insulting at the
time. Remember the incident clearly and everything that came before it. Now try to see how
that person came to that conclusion about you and write it all down. Try to write as if
you weren't involved, as if you were simply describing a character in a movie or a book.
Now close the notebook again and do some more
breathing. Calm yourself and release any tension that was brought up by the memory of the
"insult". When you feel renewed energy and calmness, open the notebook again, to
a new, clean page and remember something "adoring" or "positive"
someone said about you. Now write down everything about the incident including what you
figure made that person think that.
Now close and breath. Cycle through both extremes
several times. For a true "super effort" you should do this for at least several
hours, maybe a whole day (from morning until it gets dark). You should get to the point
when you are so tired and bored with the whole procedure that you no longer feel any
"anger" about the insults nor pride at the "compliments". |
|
October 13, 2002 |
Timing
One of the principles of the Inner Work is Self Study. That is a given. It is understood
as an essential part of any kind of conscious self evolution and there are many people who
claim to be experienced and artful in their knowledge of this. I have worked on this area
quietly and a few windows have opened here and there. Take the following not as the words
of an expert, but of a fellow Seeker.In studying "what" has happened to the machine, I sometimes forget
the "when". We are performing now a kind of archeology of the machine. A careful
dig into the forgotten tombs of the machine, where its secrets are hidden. This is not for
a scholarly purpose. In these hidden chambers we may find rats, sickness, dust, tears,
maggots, blood and broken idols. But we may also find treasures. It may be impossible to
run into the second without digging through a lot of the first.
In the process of this archeology, we have to be
careful to note the specific "photographs" that we find: the hidden glance, the
old kitchen, the wooden stairs, the girl across the street, the dance of darkness in the
circle. But we also need to record and be specific about when these photographs occurred.
The machine is not the same at all times. Certain
chambers in it may only be open for definite periods. Whatever walks into these chambers
can be locked in there indefinitely until such a time comes when we dig through the rubble
and release it. So the questions become:
What are these chambers? When are they open? What
walked in and was trapped in there? How can these chambers be opened again so that
whatever is suffering in darkness can at last be released?
And of course the central question applies to our
present digging:
When shall we go on our expedition?
|
|
August 17, 2002 |
| Content
You may find yourself before a Teacher in your travels. Be prepared for it as it may
happen at any time. In fact, when you expect it, it probably won't happen. You will have
to wait until you no longer need it, you no longer are looking for it, until the Teacher
will present themselves. But you can prepare for it ahead of time.
Prepare by paying attention to details. For when you
see the Teacher, the Teaching will be there... in the details. Look at the way they move,
the way they pass their hand over their head, the way they smile sideways, the way they
look as if nowhere in particular. Look at the way they sit, at the way they walk across
the room when it is necessary, at the way they open a door and the way they cross it. At
the way they look up at the sky and then back at you when you least expect it, and then at
the way they smile as they talk about some unrelated subject.
Look at all that and only after having looked and
looked and looked again... only then... and only if you absolutely have to... listen to
whatever it is that they are saying.
|
|
July 13, 2002 |
| Tension
As always, right before a big step, a savage thrust into the unknown, I feel tension...
creeping through my body, invading every nerve, every muscle, every thought, every
impression. And my automatic response is to somehow try to hide, to stay away from the
danger and make it invisible by not looking at it.
If I stand outside of it and look at my own body,
this complex machine of connections, texture and matter, I can see that the tension is
useless, it simply serves no purpose other than attacking its own creator. But that simple
knowledge doesn't make the tension go away.
Maybe there is a real purpose for it? Maybe there is
a hidden reason for the tension and a way to use it? What could this secret purpose be and
how could I discover it?
I stand before a big step... and the tension creeps
in. What do I need to make a big step? What is this body producing as a resource? How can
I really use it? |
|
July 1, 2002 |
| Only for Today!
Another day...
And my eyes are open
I am staring at the ceiling
Staring at the walls.
Deciding...
Do I want to be somebody?
And be part of society
And let my life go on...?
(Get some coffee and smile...
Say "good morning", say "hi" ...
act "normal", be "nice"...)
I ask my self...
Can I skip this day?
Be blind, be deaf, be dead
Only for today....?
If I could only just become the shadow
Of the bird that flies so far away
Only for today...!
If I could only get the souls to speak,
turn off the city lights
And let the stars illuminate...
And tomorrow...
I'll be there...
To be someone, one more time
And repeat the same lines
And feel so empty inside....
Can I be nobody?
Can I just be silence?
Can I just be shadow?
Only for today? |
|
| June 15, 2002 |
| Strength and Magic
An honorable goal among certain groups of people on
this planet is to manage to make a baby smile. It is a tough task but one that can't be
accomplished through any given technique, nor through any particular amount of energy or
strength. Mass alone wont make it, the spirit has to be involved.
But what is that? Why is it so elusive?
Last night we made a crowd of people dance. We had
tried before. But the beat alone won't do it. The loudness alone won't do it. The bass
alone won't do it. The guitar alone won't do it. All those parts put together... and they
still won't do it. Yet some precarious form is achieved, some particular balance of
weights, of beat and chaos, of light and shadow, and the people dance.
Yes. What is that? Why is it so elusive?
I try to wake myself up. But large amounts of
energy won't do it. Strenuous exercises won't do it. Long hours of work won't do it.
Faithful obedience to the Teacher won't do it. A quiet mind won't do it. Pure
raw emotion won't do it. All of those parts put together... and they still won't do it.
Yes.
What is that? Why is it so elusive? |
|
| June 2, 2002 |
Circles within CirclesI
was 5 or 6 years old. All alone in my room in El Salvador, looking at the endless parade
of images on the ceiling and walls as I attempted to go to sleep. And somewhere, between
the angels, demons, monsters and heroes that claimed space in the eternal show that
paraded before my eyes, I saw it with absolute clarity.
"Circles. It is all made up of circles.
Endless circles. Circles within circles."
And it came to me as absolute and irrevocable
knowledge. Based on no principles, no theories, no ideas. Nothing. Pure knowledge without
any basis or any justification.
I only knew that I knew it.
And then I went on to forget. An invasion of lines
and squares and progressions and divisions and geometry and trigonometry and world visions
that lasted decades.
But then, yesterday, the old knowledge, that simple
vision, came to visit me again.
Circles. It is all made up of circles. Nothing
else. |
April 24, 2002 |
| The Courage to See
I was in a room with many people, a kind of halfway
house, a recovery center for broken machines that have lost their way. My friend was there
with me and he helped me find a place and I realized we were near the end of a long
process, a long journey that I hadn't been completely aware of but that was only now
becoming apparent as it came to a close.
"Yes, like before, you forgot and gave in to a
cage."
"Yes, just like before. No difference"
"No apologies, no need to weep or to be
ashamed, just give it up and start looking."
And I looked around, finally feeling the fear that
had been there. A fear so deep that it wouldn't let me even see it. It would hide from me
and mask itself beneath thoughts, emotions, discipline and laziness, openness and
dogmatism. And as I briefly looked for one time, the fear came out of its hole, deep in
the center of my chest, hurting as it came out, right at the start of a long, loud scream.
"It's bound to hurt. There's no way around
that."
I retreated for a moment, then again looked. It's
been there all along. And I've known it all along! But the fear...
"Keep going. It's time to open your
eyes..." |
|
March 30, 2002 |
I FellWatching a bad
show, a really bad show, the kind that I only delve into when I feel sick in every
possible way and there is no hope of escape other than condensed trash...
And then a bad romantic song comes on, underlying
the appearance of a guest: "Kiss to kiss, I fell in love with you..." with a
sweet melancholic melody and guitars providing the background.
And I fall, into the remote past, a past that fades
away from me even as it approaches. A past of maids with transistor radios perched to
their ears, their eyes looking up at the small window that runs across the top part of the
washing room, letting the late afternoon light filter through and bringing into view the
little tornadoes of dust that swirl through the house. I look at them and try to penetrate
their dreams, I try to understand "love" and I see it as a purple creature that
invades your room in the darkness.
And I see myself much older, around 11 or 12,
walking into Metrocentro, the biggest shopping center in El Salvador, full of desires and
the promise of possibilities, of girls that I haven't met and kisses that I haven't felt.
And the past comes with the feel of my feet on the
ground, of the sound of the car horns, of the sun on my back, of the street vendors
selling hotdogs and lottery tickets. And I see myself trying endlessly to live the maid's
dreams, to make them come into reality, to make them solid and palpable, to justify them
and forgive them for their hopelessness.
From such kisses to such kisses, I fell.
|
|
March 2, 2002 |
Pushing the rock upAs I
slowly move up the hill, my legs sliding back underneath me, my whole body covered in
grime and sweat, grunts of pure animal pain escaping me without control, my fingers
bleeding and aching, my shoulders about to burst...
I stumble and the rock comes rolling back down. I
manage to jump out of the way, but the rock rolls all the way down, bouncing happily as it
erases days of effort in a few seconds. I am still up there, looking at it as it comes to
rest on a little sand hill way down below, barely within my view.
I cry and look down dejected. Please don't make me
start over, not the whole thing all over again. I shake with pure sadness as I see the
rock all the way down there, my bloodied hands covering my face.
At some point, in some way, I will have to give up. |
|
February 24, 2002 |
In CirclesAgain, again,
again. It went through the same way, every last detail is there, down to the smallest
little movement of my face, the complex and battling sequences of thoughts, the
recriminations and the justifications, the planning for the future, the pain in the chest,
the lost eyes in the (non existent) horizon, the pushing of the foot against the floor as
if hoping for something to give and an endless hole to swallow me and take me somewhere
else, where this won't happen.
Again. |
|
February 2, 2002 |
Shy PeopleHow many times
would you hesitate, second guess yourself, edit your actions and end up with nothing? And
all for a nameless enemy, a hidden shadow that lurks behind the corner, an unknown
adversary that will attack when you are not looking and take away... what? What would you
lose if you went ahead, if you jumped right in and did it?
Did what?
You know exactly what! That one thing. That action
that you have wished but have put away, in the back of your mind, knowing it should come
but not now, not right here, let's wait a bit, the time will come, when I'm ready, when
I'm different, when things have changed, when everything has moved into a different
perspective...
But that time will never come. You are in control.
And the more things are the same, the more they stay the same. So it's up to you. You move
and the whole Universe will shift around you. The whole of Creation will adjust itself to
your new proposal and something new will have modified the picture forever.
Wait and Creation waits. And as long as you wait
for each other, you could wait forever.
In fact, you have. |
|
January 10, 2002 |
Starting OverYou have it. The
zone, the state of mind, the right space for work. It's right there with you and it's all
around you. It stays for a day, for an hour, for a minute, for a week.... but then it's
gone.
No use trying to go back. It's gone and
forgotten. Now what? Despair? Disillusion? All that work... gone?
Or... starting over?
From the start. As if nothing had happened. As if
you had died and been reborn (which is in fact what has happened). As if you had never
done any work at all. A complete beginner.
Do it often. Starting over. Once you know how to do
it, it will never go away. |
|
December 3, 2001 |
For My LoveAngel, I heard you crying and it hurts. I heard your scream, painful and
loud, as we laid next to each other…wondering where we were, how got there, hoping we
could change it and still be together. I wish I could stay; but if I do, I would never be
true…
I fight leaving you with all that I have left. I lie to
myself and to you and to everyone just to be next to you one more time. I feel it
inevitable – our fate.
Why? I don’t have the answer, only the anger and rage.
I will ask a thousand – a million – times why it must be. How did we come to
this?
I hate the pain. I pain the tears – the broken
dreams…of what could be, of what should have been. What will be, one never knows.
I must go, my angel. Forgive me if you can; but I must ask
you to let me go!
And let go of me. My prison you are not; but if you hold on,
you’ll be free no more…
My prison is the Lie that destroys me. It came from another
world – across time and space. It has followed me for longer than I can remember. It
infiltrates my thoughts and shatters my dreams. It prevents my happiness and destroys my
angels – I hope it is not too late for you, my love.
Over and over again, it hasn’t stopped. I saw it here,
in this world, when I was only four; and I had forgotten about the chase. It followed me
into this place, where I thought I’d be safe, and I’ve felt like ending my life
hundreds of times because of it. It chases me into a dream of humans, where I can only be
what I am not. It turns me into a hungry ghost, where I can only want what never is and
feed on what doesn’t exist. It makes me participate in a world of brutes, where I can
only do what I must not.
You are an Angel Unaware, my love. My wish for you is that
you listen to your calling, find your True Self and do what you came here for – start
shinning precious star!
I must leave (the place where you and I met) to face my
demon – into another world, yet – before it destroys you too…before it
finds our sacred cave.
Demon, you are the Lie – myself! Alone I must face you.
Ancient ESPers, adventurers bold and brave, help me to face
my demon. Once again, I need you. Ki-rin, give me sanctuary. I am weak. I fight a demon
that possesses me when I sleep. It is the battle I dread the most, for I have lost it a
thousand times before…
Bruto, I am cunning, super-intelligent, deceitful, sleek and
sly. I have a thousand faces; and I know my opponent better that he knows himself. I know
his dreams, the pace of his breath, the sound of his steps, his fears. I am his darkest
and most dreaded fear. I am the Demon that posseses him. I am the unseen in the dark. I
know where he hides. I know when he comes. And I am waiting for his return…Carlos is
dead!
But your memory is not, my angel. You are my last thought.
You are my shinning star. I love you forever.
And I thank you for your time, for your presence, for your
attention.
Baby, more specific I cannot get. I write this to the one
who needs to hear it, not to the one who wants the answers.
We will meet again – that I promise!
Good Bye,
Your Baby. |
|
| November 21, 2001 |
Ghost StorySaturday
morning...
Wake-up – out of bed and into the bathroom.
No one home.
Take a piss; wash hands and face; look into the mirror; check teeth (still rotting); brush
teeth.
(House all to myself)
Glass of water on coffee table next to couch, pipe packed with weed, line of crank next to
plastic straw next to remote control, pack of cigarettes and lighter next to me, porno in
VCR – ready to go.
Lock doors, close windows, shut the blinds.
(Alone at last)
Snore crank; turn TV and VCR on; push "play."
Smoke bowl of weed; light-up a cigarette; get up (forgot) to get ashtray.
Get naked; lay back; pleasure myself.
Noon…
Prepare another line, pack another bowl, put in another porno – do it all over.
Day and night – no difference (just do it all over again).
Saturday, Sunday, Monday – all the same (crank, weed, cigarettes, porno, masturbate).
Always hungry even though full; always chasing what
doesn’t fill…
Phantom images of fulfillment haunting me. Exhausted from days without rest and food, but
I can’t stop.
Won’t stop chasing the pleasures, the illusions – I want more…
After years, I finally surrendered. Had to ask for help
– humbled myself. So weak was I, that I literary could not get up for days. I
recognized the guide and accepted the help. I got strong again.
Seems there’s no escape, though. Seduced into
lovemaking with my favorite ghosts again – I guess I didn’t let go completely.
Ran away from the dissolving radiation, right back into a path of insatiable hungers.
On my way now (been here enough to know), healthy and strong
again, to roam with the other hungry ghosts.
Saturday morning… |
|
| November 21, 2001 |
DoorsSo right when the
door to the Underworld opens, gaping wide open and inviting, calling to me with sounds,
colors and smells, a promise of new delights, of undreamed pleasure, of even new hungers
to search for new satisfactions... right then, another door opens. A door that doesn't
call, that doesn't make a sound, that hardly seems to be even there.
This is the door I must go through. |
|
| November 17, 2001 |
| Contact
Not just talk, not just being together, not just
knowing about each other, but true Being to Being contact.... what a terribly difficult
state to build and what an easy thing to break.
I can say how much that contact is wanted. How much
it is needed. How much it is necessary. But I can't put you in contact with me. I can only
be present and wait for the right moment, wait for a time when you will wake up, even a
little, and look around, and notice that I am only waiting, working hard at waiting, for
you.
Once in a while this mysterious thing happens, this
contact, and then it is beautiful and even the air around us seems to change. But then it
gets broken, and I am back to waiting.
|
|
November 9, 2001 |
| Irony
Sensitive CFlo, crying for the world, for the
tortured, sees his lovely lonely wife take off with their children -- crying for daddy;
and CFlo thinks, "how sad, my poor babies." He doesn't lift a finger, but
calls his other girl and cries on her shoulder saying, "I love you."
Dilchangada's franticaly freaking; day after day
conplaining of her loneliness to JC. JC's thinking of her always, never leaving her
side, talking about Work on self 'n things, trying to help her overcome her own trap.
And once in a blue moon he receives a call from an old friend who's lost her
husband and father of her children to a silly young girl -- crying and lonely, needing a
friend to talk to. And jealous Dilchangada, day after day, conplains to JC: "You
never hear me. You never talk to me."
Titanunca, a learned and experienced shaman of sorts,
talks about angel invocations and real Work that benefit all Beings to a group from around
the world who wants some of it. The group starts slow and easy with outside help.
They begin meetings and talk about plans and ideas. They more or less
organize their group and slowly begin to come up with work and practical exercises --
simple ones to begin wih. They're all following simple instructions, trying simple
exercises, and contributing to simple tasks while Titanunca's still talking about his
forty hours-a-week job and doing his own exercises.
Somewhere in this mess I see myself -- the irony:
watching it all happen, knowing something must be done...
"Where are my cigarettes?" |
|
| October 31, 2001 |
| Family
What is "family"? Where does it begin and
where does it end? Is it the eyes that first meet you as come out of the womb? Is it the
house where you come to rest after the first few days of encarnation? Or is it the current
of blood that unites you to long lost people and maintains a recurrent bond that never
seems to go away?
As you cross a doorway, you see a group of strong
men, older men who look down on you. Are you one of us? Are you part of the family? What
will you have to do to belong?
A phone call from far away tells you in a soft, calm
yet worried voice: "Come and get me." and you know that things are not right,
that something unexpected has happened.
A message comes from another country saying "I
miss you and by the way, can you get me a pair of shoes?" and your whole body
convulses in disgust.
You fly through a bardo space and as you move up and
away into higher dimensions you realize that the most important thing is to call him, to
connect with him, specially here.
Where is family? How do you become family? How does
it go away? How does it come back?
How do you come back? |
|
October 3, 2001 |
| Masks
Underneath the dancer's mask-
Another mask. And under-
What is under the Last mask?
(that, or any other)-
Behind the mask, an empty space,
Not able to be seen or touched?
Or are all the masks just like No mask?
It's really quite a Wonder!
The masked dancer, circling 'round,
Where can she go but up?
Must she take her mask off? No-
For then she'd have no eyes.
And Up is only Up when eyes
Perceive the Up and Down...
These eyes that gaze out from the mask,
Who stares from that disguise?
So wear the mask, and circle 'round,
You cannot stop the dance!
Don't try to jump-there is no Up!-
But try to find the dancer. |
|
September 26, 2001 |
| My Eternal Dance
I am dancing
Away from me
I am dancing
towards me
But my eyes are closed
And my heart is cold.
I feel the rhythm
I hear the music
I am dancing
I am moving
Away from me
Towards me
Up and down
I move with the wind
Forward and backwards
I move with the ocean
And my eyes are still closed.
And my heart is still cold.
I will dance for ever
In the ignorance,
In the darkness
Looking for me
Escaping from me
Dancing...
Away from me
Dancing...
towards me |
|
September 19, 2001 |
| A Moment of Silence
We are humans, and more than and less than that, we
are animals. And as such, we react. Something happens and our organisms react instantly...
adrenaline rushes through our bodies, the skin opens up and sweat glands start pumping,
eyes open wide and we are ready.... to fight or run. When something small happens we react
gently, under control, at least to a certain degree. But then something really big
happens...
And then we enter a danger zone. Our bodies are out
of control. Literally scared out of, beyond our, minds. Ruled by ancient memories of death
and destruction. Ready to run at the slightest sign of danger. Ready to kill at the
slightest possibility of revenge.
It is then that we need a moment of silence. A small
moment that will separate our future actions from our past disasters. A moment that will
let true inspiration come into our consciousness and give us guidance.
Without this moment, we are helpess and we are ruled
by the machine, by the mechanical forces that rule the world and that keep the great wheel
of Karma moving endlessly.
Now, more than ever, we need to take and truly keep a
moment of silence. Not a symbolic lowering of the head and an effort at giving the
appearance of "deep prayer". But a true moment of silence that will allow for
divine inspiration to enter our consciousness and separate us, even just for an instant,
from the blood-hungry reactions of the machine.
I can't say what the result would be. But I can say
that without this moment, we are bound to continue an endless cycle of violence and
revenge... an infinite scream just waiting for a rest, a place to stop and wait, a moment
of silence. |
|
September 5, 2001 |
| Word
I am using this word
I don't know what it means.
Is a word, a word
...a word?
Is it talking to me?
Word
I wrote word
I am moving the word
I created the word
I am giving life to this word.
The word
Has no meaning
Where does the word come from?
The word
Came from me
I created you
You are my word
You are the word
I am the word.
|
|
August 22, 2001 |
| Objective Music
The first time I heard this term it was from one of
my Dad's friends in El Salvador. "The thing with Ouspensky is that he talks about
this thing... the Objective Music! You have to read about this!" He photocopied the
entire book ("In Search of the Miraculous") and gave it to me as a gift. I
didn't read it then. It sat around for several years. Then my mother gave me the same book
as a gift (she had looked at it in a bookstore and just thought I might like it). So I
said to myself "Maybe I am really supposed to read this book huh?"
So I studied O.'s and G.'s ideas on objective music.
The correlations between mathematics and higher consciousness, between direct effect and
vibration. Music made in a very specific mathematical/esoteric approach to have a very
specific effect on human consciousness. The vibrations, the frequencies, the ratios
of time and amplitude, the spacing... everything in a distinct place to have a very deep
effect on the listener.
My studies in this direction have continued over the
years. Some of the results from this work are now available through our sister web site: Journey to Alpha and The Lesser Ritual of
Banishment.
Of course the study in this direction continues and
will continue over the following years.
But there is now also a parallel line of study, a
seemingly different approach to Objective Music. To be in the awakened state while the
music is produced makes a definite impression on the music and transmits at least some of
that state to the listener. So the focus of attention is on the state of the machine while
the work is being made.
Some of the results of this approach are Ion Evo-Rebirth, Zelda and Roland, Children of the Secret
and Ion Evo
I believe ultimately the two approaches are not
contradictory but just two faces of the same impulse: the intuitive and the rational,
chaos and order, Dyonisius and Apollo.... Zelda and Roland! |
|
August 15, 2001 |
| Extremes
At some point we, you and me, have been tantalized by
the possibilities, by the wondrous descriptions of experience, by the fantasies of
achievement and transcendental modes of consciousness that are possible to us as human
beings. And so we embark on the road to Enlightenment, to Nirvana, to Heaven.
As we start we see others that have gone before us.
Maybe they have slowed down, maybe they left the path altogether. And so we decide that we
will be stronger, we will endure any hardship, we will do anything that is needed to reach
that unimaginable conclusion.
This is what is needed. And this is also a danger.
Every coin has two sides. "I will do anything" will turn into "I won't do
anything" if the tables are turned. "I won't let anything stop me." will
turn into "There's nothing that can make me start again."
Pace yourself. Advice as simple as that will not only
save you from the dangers of extreme practices but will also save you from the worst
danger of all: to give up in disgust. Disgust that you weren't able to reach the
impossible goals that you set in your original ignorance.
Remember. You haven't been this way before. Don't
assume what you can do before you do it. Don't set the bar so high that you will walk away
from it.
The path can be walked. The goals can be reached.
Take your time. |
|
August 9, 2001 |
| Are we here?
Yesterday I received an email asking us if we
"are still here?". I looked around myself...well? Am I here? Are "we"
here? The answer is not clear and straightforward but its not impossible either. The group
that first started out as the Bardo Training Center is no longer "here". Some
people have left for slightly different paths, some have left this particular group but
have stayed on the same path and others have just left.
What remains is the impulse and the wish to work.
This impulse has changed or "shapeshifted". A lot of my own energy has been put
into making music... trying to make a kind of music that reflects, intensifies and pushes
forward the same invocation that was started with the Bardo Training Center and which
continues to exist "here", in this ungraspable space in the World Wide Web. This
mysterious place continues to attract visitors and continues to connect with seekers all
over the world. And these seekers sometimes manage to find exactly what they needed
through here.
And so "here", a kind of unknown
region of cyberspace, an invocation that started many years ago has continued to live and
to grow. The energy that feeds it comes not only from within but from outside, from you
who are reading this. By reading these lines, you become a part of this invocation. So
yes, the definitive answer is that "we" are still "here",
perpetually evolving through the maelstrom of sounds and lights that is Maya but still
"here".
It is always the same day. |
|
